


Every Prickly Thorn and Razor Edge

by cissues



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, Graphic depictions of homophobia, M/M, Mention of Physical Abuse, PTSD, Slow Burn, craigslist ads, mention of parental death, use of homophobic slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cissues/pseuds/cissues
Summary: Ronan offers his services on Craigslist.  Adam responds.





	Every Prickly Thorn and Razor Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so... I haven't finished a fanfiction in a long time because college is awful but for some reason I wanted to write this and then it became something else and then it got really out of control and I had to edit it a little bit.
> 
> A few things to mention:
> 
> Yes, I know Chainsaw never shows up. I kind of forgot. Whoops.
> 
> Yes, I know neither Blue nor Gansey have a big role in this fic and I'm sorry. This fic is mostly about Ronan having complicated feelings about /stuff/ and neither of them really came up.
> 
> ADAM DESCRIBES HIS ABUSE IN RELATIVE DETAIL!!!! RONAN DESCRIBES HIS DAD'S DEATH IN RELATIVE DETAIL!!!
> 
> There is a homophobic slur (the F one) and pretty graphic depictions of homophobia (nothing physical, just a lot of yelling)
> 
> YES this fic is inspired by a dumb tumblr post where a dude on Craigslist offers to act like a shitty boyfriend to disappoint parents. We cannot choose our muses.
> 
> Also they might be like... kind of out of character. I really need to reread the series.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments this is my first published TRC fic and I'm pretty proud of it THANK YOU!
> 
> (my tumblr is cacaesthesia.tumblr.com and I really need more people to talk about TRC with pls n thx)

Desperate times call for desperate measures, Ronan has heard.  And desperate times often come with bottles of whiskey and piss poor choices.  He’s never actually heard that one, but he sure did learn it over time.

He and Declan had just gotten into a fight.  This was not an unusual circumstance, but this time had been particularly bad.  Ronan had thrown punches, Declan had screamed until spittle flew from his mouth in a boiling rage.  In the end, Declan told Ronan not to come to Thanksgiving, and if he tried Declan would call the police.  This meant that Ronan wouldn’t see Matthew for Thanksgiving.  This was, perhaps, the worst punishment Declan could have enacted.  The thought of being by himself for Thanksgiving was excruciating and he was a little worried about what would happen if he was left to his own devices. 

So, desperate times. 

Ronan wasn’t exactly sure where he had gotten the idea, but at three in the morning and three quarters of the way through a bottle of whiskey it had seemed like the funniest and most ingenious plan he had ever thought of.  It solved all of his problems in one go, it felt like.  Sure, he still wouldn’t be able to see Matthew, but at least he would be entertained and not alone.

He clicked “publish”, sat back and took another swig.

The Craigslist ad was simple enough.  Underneath a subject that read “Alone on Thanksgiving?  Want to Disappoint your Family?” it went on,

“I am a 26 year old alcoholic who dropped out of high school.  I drive around in my dad’s BMW (that I can imply I stole) and have a pet raven (yes, like the bird).  I can play any age between 20-30 depending on how much I drank the night before and how recently I’ve shaved.  I am unemployed and living in my friend’s house where I don’t pay rent.  I am 6’2” with a shaved head and tattoos and I have been told that I look like I just got out of prison a week ago.

If you would like to have me as your platonic date and have me pretend to be your serious boyfriend/fiance/husband, I’m down.  Boys or girls, I don’t care.

Here are some examples of how I can disappoint and frighten your family: flirt with literally anyone in your family (I won’t discriminate gender or age), pretend to be completely wasted and throw up in your family’s house, start heated arguments about politics or religion (I’m Catholic but I ain’t proud), propose to you in front of your family, bring my pet raven who is not well trained, start a physical fight with anyone.

I don’t require payment, I’ll do this for the free meal and for the fuck of it.

I can provide references upon request.”

Ronan thought that this was possibly the most hysterical thing in the world.  He doubted anyone would actually take him up on the offer but he could only imagine how entertaining of a Thanksgiving this could be were someone to actually do it.  Effective in its ability to distract.

With that, he stumbled back to his bed and fell into a typically fitful sleep.

The next morning, or rather some indeterminate time several hours later, Ronan rolled out of his bed, glancing out at the overcast sky that made it hard to tell if it was sunrise or sunset.  He had a headache and he was still a little bit drunk, unpleasantly so and he wished he could just go back to sleep.  His body wished otherwise, as it often did, and so he was awake.

Despite his drunken state, he remembered the Craigslist post clearly, although with more than a little bit of shame.  He grimaced as he opened his laptop, going to read over the post again.  It wasn’t… so bad.  He was impressed by the legibility of it, wondering if “functioning alcoholic” could be upgraded to “functioning-better-than-sober alcoholic”.  Out of curiosity, he checked his email.  He made a small noise of surprise when he noticed a notification.  The subject of the email read, “ _Concerning your advertisement”_ and he clicked it.

“Hello,

I saw your ad on Craigslist and I am potentially interested in using your services.  I have dinner with some distant relatives who I have no interest in keeping in contact with.  My original plan was to just tell them to fuck off over dinner, but after some late night procrastinating vis a vis Craigslist personals browsing, this seems like a more entertaining and scarring option. 

I would, however, like to request a reference just to make sure that you are not a murderer.

Thank you,

Adam”

Ronan had honestly not expected this to work.  At all.  But it had.  It had worked _beautifully._

Ronan leapt from his chair and bolted out of his room.

Gansey was thankfully awake (or, more likely, _still_ awake) and sitting at his desk.  His glasses were sitting at the edge of his nose and he was staring at a map that had been glued into his notebook.  Ronan did not feel bad about interrupting him.

“Hey, Dick.” He called from across Monmouth.  Gansey visibly jumped, snapping the notebook shut as if Ronan hadn’t helped him find half of the shit stuck within it.  Gansey pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed, rubbing at his temples.

“Yes, Ronan, what do you want?” He asked.  Gansey always lost his politician voice when it was just the two of them.  Ronan appreciated that.

“I need a favor.”

Gansey sighed again and moved his hand to rub instead at the bridge of his nose.  Ronan was used to Gansey expressing every sign of frustration in the span of a several minute long conversation.  “What kind of favor?”

“I need to use you as a reference.”

Gansey looked surprised, dropping his hand to his lap.  “Oh?  Are you… getting a job?” He asked incredulously.

Ronan scoffed, offended.  “Nah, I just offered my services as a platonic gigolo and someone wants to make sure I’m not a murderer.”

Gansey’s head dropped and his hands were back to worrying various parts of his face.  “Ah, yes, I should have known.  It was so obvious.” He said, deadpan.

“Well?” Ronan asked, getting impatient.

“Sure, whatever.  Just don’t get yourself murdered, either.  Or ruin someone’s life.  I don’t even think I want to know the details.”

Ronan grinned.  “And I wouldn’t have given them to you anyway.” He said over his shoulder as he retreated back to his room.

Once on the computer, he typed up a quick response, including Gansey’s email address and a request for more details.  He suggested that they meet up once before Thanksgiving in order to get their stories straight.  Adam emailed him back within the hour and they had a date set not long after that.

Something about this was making Ronan… _nervous_.  As if this was a real date.  A real relationship.  He hadn’t ever been all that interested in dating.  He knew he liked guys, but he hadn’t met one that he wanted to settle down with, or even have coffee with.  There were boys that made his heart race, there were boys that made him blush and who flirted shamelessly with him, but those boys didn’t mean anything to him.  Those boys were adrenaline.  He got enough of that on his own.

He didn’t know Adam, and likely wouldn’t talk to him again after estranging him from his family.  He shouldn’t be nervous.

Three days later, Ronan drove to a local cafe.  Adam said that he wanted it to be somewhere public, but where they could talk in relative peace.  There was a cafe that wasn’t too far away from Monmouth that Adam seemed amenable towards.  Ronan was late.

He squealed into a parking spot across the street and slammed on the parking brake.  He turned off the car and sprinted across the road with little notice of the oncoming traffic.  The only casualty was a short, irritated horn.

Ronan threw open the cafe door and several heads turned in surprise as the bell above the doorframe jingled violently.  Ronan glanced around the cafe for the frustratingly vague physical description Adam had given him (“Short brown hair, average height, average weight, wearing a jean jacket”).  Thankfully, the rest of the patrons at the cafe were much more colorful looking than that and Ronan was able to zero in on a man sitting at a table off to the side looking nervous and alert.  Ronan looked at the man for a moment and decided that the frustratingly vague physical description was both accurate and disgustingly lacking in the really important things.  The bright blue eyes set deep within the man’s face and surrounded by shadows of sleepless nights that Ronan knew all too well, the sharp cheekbones that lead into a strong jaw which led into a slender and elegant neck.  It looked practiced, the way Adam sat; he kept adjusting his posture and stretching his neck from side to side as if it ached.  He did not have a coffee.

Ronan walked towards the other man.

Adam had been looking around the cafe expectantly, so he caught Ronan coming towards him.  His expression shifted to something unreadable and then he attempted a choked smile and stood up as Ronan got to the table.

“Hi, I’m Adam” Adam said, holding out his hand.  Ronan smirked and bumped his fist into the tips of Adam’s fingers and then sat down.  “Hey.  Ronan,” He said.

Clearing his throat, clearly flustered, Adam sat back down.

“Should we get some coffee?” He asked as if he wasn’t even sure that was something people did in cafes.  Ronan shrugged, glancing at the overpriced menu and frowning.  “Yeah, I guess.” He said, looking back at Adam.  “What d’you want?”

Adam waved his hand as if to say “no thank you” but Ronan leaned down, placing his hand on the table.  “Let me buy you a goddamn coffee.  What do you want?” He asked again, trying to sound nonthreatening and mostly succeeding.  Adam visibly swallowed.  “Just a black coffee.” He answered.  Ronan’s smirk was back and he rapped his knuckles against the table before going to get in line.

When he got back to the table with the coffees, Adam was on his phone texting someone, but put his phone away when he noticed Ronan sitting back down.  “Thanks.” He said with a small smile, reaching for the cup Ronan had set down in front of him.  “I feel like I should have bought them, considering you’re doing this for free.” Adam said with a nervous chuckle.  Ronan took a sip of his coffee and shook his head.  “Nah.  If anything, you’re doing me a favor.”

Adam looked at him quizzically, as if trying to prompt more information but Ronan simply smiled mysteriously and sat back in his chair.

“So,” Adam began, bringing his phone up again.  “I was thinking…” he looked understandably uncomfortable at the strange topic they were about the discuss.  Ronan grinned.  “Go on.” He prompted.  Adam sighed and opened something on his phone.  “I was thinking that I would tell them that I’m going to ‘bring the person I’m dating over’.  I read over your ad again and like, basically, as… unacceptable as you can make it.  My family doesn’t know that I’m bisexual and I think bringing a man over would cause at least one brain hemorrhage.  If we could play that up, y’know, the fact that we’re two men in a relationship, I think that would be great.  Maybe some… PDA.  Hand-holding… or whatever.”

Adam seemed to be pushing through this entirely on the basis of pretending that Ronan wasn’t there.  He wasn’t looking up or waiting for Ronan to confirm or veto anything, and his cheeks were burning.  Ronan was delighted.

“Sounds like a plan to me.  Want me to play up anything?  I could do the alcoholic deadbeat act--”

“NO!” Adam looked suddenly very panicked.  Ronan’s face fell.  Adam schooled himself, closing his eyes for a moment and when he opened them he seemed calm again.  “No, don’t do that.  That’s…” He pursed his lips, and swallowed audibly before continuing.  “Actually, if you could act like… straight edge and absurdly rich that would be… that would be ideal.”

Ronan snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.  “How rich?” He said.  Adam seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he ran his hands through his hair.  “Very.  They hate rich people.  Especially rich people with family money.”

Adam looked a little ashamed as he said this and Ronan twisted his mouth in thought before nodding.  “Yeah, I think I can pull that off.” He said with a smile.  Adam nodded, not returning it.

After an awkward moment where neither of them knew exactly what to say, Ronan lifted his coffee to his lips and asked, “Why are you doing this?”

It was something he had been thinking about since Adam first emailed him.  He understood the inclination to disappoint and frustrate your parents, or scare them, but that didn’t seem to be what Adam was doing.  It seemed like there was something else, something that had wounds.  Something that hurt and that Adam was desperate to remove himself from.

Adam eyed Ronan for a moment, clearly debating how much to say, before he sighed and took a sip from his drink.  “There was… something that happened and they never said anything even though it was wrong and hurting people.  They supported it, even.  Now that the thing is over they want to pretend like it never happened.  I think that sucks and so I want them to hate me and never speak to me again.”

Ronan hummed, processing this.  This is really not what he had signed up for when he drunkenly created that Craigslist ad.  He was expecting moody twenty-something-year-old girls who were mad they were never allowed to go to parties or dye their hair.  Not some beautiful man with traumatic family history and a desire to permanently estrange himself.  It suddenly stopped being funny.

“Why don’t you just tell them that you don’t want to see them?” Ronan asked, watching Adam carefully.

Adam’s eyes fluttered shut for a very brief moment.  “Why, do you want to back out?” He asked, peering at Ronan through his eyelashes in a decidedly unfair sort of way.  Ronan remembered to breathe.  “No.” He said.  “I was just wondering.  This seems kinda overboard.  You could just tell them to fuck off.”

Sipping from his coffee, Adam looked at Ronan for a moment before he shrugged.  “I don’t think they would listen.  I’d rather be a disappointment than having to constantly fend them off.”

Ronan knew all about that.  He nodded sagely and for a moment they just looked at each other.  Just sat and looked.  Then Adam broke out into a grin.

“This is ridiculous.” He said in mirthful disbelief.  Ronan couldn’t help but smile back, chuckling at the absurdity of it.  “Yeah, but can you imagine the looks on their faces?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows.  Adam laughed and then, for a moment, looked a little dazed.  “Yes.  Yes I can.”

The two of them sat and talked for a little while longer about the details of Ronan’s introduction to Adam’s aunt, uncle, two grandparents, and two cousins.  They set boundaries, decided on how far they would be willing to go with it, and what they would do in an emergency.  Adam warned Ronan that his family was extremely homophobic and so the fact that he was bringing a man at all was likely going to get them thrown out of the house.  Ronan assured him that it would only make it more fun.

When they left an hour and a half later, Ronan found himself wanting to say more, ask Adam more questions, learn about all of those things he kept hidden behind carefully selected words.

They stood outside of the coffee shop, hands stuffed in their pockets and Ronan was just about to ask what Adam was doing for dinner before, just like that, Adam was waving goodbye and walking out of sight.  Ronan lifted his hand too late and Adam missed his farewell.  He gave a frustrated huff before running across the street and back to his car.

For the next week, Ronan watched Gansey intently.  He tried to mimic the hand motions, the smile, the voice.  He practiced in his room or during conversations with Gansey (who just assumed Ronan was mocking him and blew it off).  On a rare night that Gansey had actually fallen asleep, Ronan snuck into the chest of drawers next to his bed and extracted a pair of khakis and a polo, although he would likely have to purchase his own boat shoes.  Is it even acceptable to wear boat shoes during this kind of weather?  Ronan had no idea.  Scrap the boat shoes, then.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Ronan was completely confident in his ability to play the role Adam needed.  He wasn’t quite sure why he had put so much thought and effort into it and told himself that it was because all of this was funny and any way he could instill confrontation, he would do.  But there was something else itching under his skin.  Something that stuck on his tongue and refused to be acknowledged.

Adam agreed to pick Ronan up at Monmouth and suddenly Ronan was nervous.  He was nervous that his outfit was too ridiculous, that Adam would judge Monmouth, that Gansey would try to stick his nose in the fact that Ronan was leaving in another man’s car, dressed like a complete dillhole.

He had slipped by Gansey, but the fact that he was standing in front of a giant warehouse with his hands in the pockets of the most respectable coat he owned - the one he had worn only to his father’s funeral - shivering in the cold a full fifteen minutes before Adam was supposed to get there.

Luckily, Adam seemed to run around ten minutes ahead.

Adam pulled up in what could only be considered a Trash Car.  Ronan stifled a wry smile while Adam was too distracted with his staring up at the massive building.

“You live here?” He called from the open car window.  Ronan shrugged as he walked towards the car.  Adam seemed to notice Ronan’s outfit next and bit his tongue in order to stifle laughter.

“Holy shit, what are you wearing?”

Ronan pushed down a wave of embarrassment and twirled.  “A friend’s clothes I borrowed.  Thought it would help sell my character.” He was grinning like he had practiced.  Adam’s smile fell just a little in exchange for glossed over eyes and reddened ears.

“Also, we are not driving in that.” Ronan said, pulling his car keys from his jacket pocket and walking towards another car in the parking lot.  He didn’t bother looking back, but he could hear Adam pulling into a parking space and turning off the car before running after him.

“My car would have done fine.” He grumbled once he’d caught up to Ronan.  Ronan huffed and rolled his eyes.  “I would never allow _my_ boyfriend to go anywhere in that piece of shit.” He said in his best impression of Gansey’s politician voice.  Adam seemed offended at first until the role caught up to him and he chuckled, quiet and low.

Ronan glanced over at Adam and tried not to let the word “boyfriend” get to him.

Not his boyfriend.  Just his _fake_ boyfriend.  For _one night_.

They got into the BMW and drove off.

Adam directed as best as he could while simultaneously holding onto every surface he could reach.  Ronan drove like he was in a police chase, like he had nothing to lose.  Then, he looked over at Adam and he slowed down a little.  Just a little.

They got to the house in record time, according to Adam, and almost half an hour earlier than they were expected to.  Adam sat in the passenger seat, taking deep, calming breaths as Ronan picked at the radio.

“What do we do now?” Adam asked breathlessly.  Ronan frowned, looking over at the house and suddenly realizing how fucking bad of an idea this was.  He could get Adam back to Monmouth with plenty of time for him to get back to his family’s house.  He could ditch.  He wasn’t being paid, and what was one missed Thanksgiving?

Ronan’s jaw clenched dangerously and then he looked back at Adam and grinned.  “What are we waiting for?”

Adam let out a gust of air and Ronan could practically _feel_ Adam’s heart pounding.  “Yeah, you’re right.” Adam said quietly.  “What are we waiting for?”

And then they got out of the car and Ronan could see hints of faces peering out through curtains and he knew that, for the plan, the BMW had been a good choice.  Adam rounded the side of the car and Ronan poked at a heavy, internal part of himself until he stuck out his hand for Adam to take.

Adam looked at him and then, almost shyly, he took Ronan’s hand and squeezed it in a private sort of way.  Like a thank you.

When Ronan looked up, the faces had disappeared from the windows and he was suddenly very scared for Adam, he was even a little bit scared for himself.  Adam had explained how his family were bigots.  How the stories of discrimination and insensitivity and violence stacked on for miles.  He had looked at Ronan’s dark hair and dark skin and looked just a little bit worried.  Ronan had waved his hand, saying that he’s dealt with worse.  And he had.  Still, he was swimming into shark territory and his impulse was to run.

But Adam was staring resolutely ahead and gripping Ronan’s hand tightly and Ronan started walking.  When they got to the door, Adam rang the doorbell and they both held their breath.

When the door swung open, an old woman with dyed blond hair and clumpy black mascara stood in the door.  She was frowning and looking back and forth between Ronan, Adam, and their conjoined hands.  Finally, she shifted her weight to one foot, placing a hand on her hip and leveled Adam with a _Look_.

“Really, Adam?  You think this is funny?”

Adam blinked rapidly, glancing over at Ronan who was watching him out of the corner of his eye.  “Um, no?” He replied.  The woman’s thick Henrietta accent seemed to pour into Adam and there was a much more noticeable twang that turned “No” into a two syllable word.  Ronan’s jaw clenched again, but for a vastly different reason.

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes.  “You better not be doin’ all of that in my Christian household.” She grumbled, gesturing to their held hands.  Adam immediately dropped Ronan’s hand.  Ronan pursed his lips and snatched it back up.  “With all due respect, ma’am,” he said, doing his best imitation of Gansey’s high-brow Washington accent, “I love Adam very much and I will not be bullied into pretending otherwise on this, a day of giving thanks.”

The woman’s nose wrinkled at that, but Adam was staring at Ronan and didn’t seem to notice.  “Just, lord… not in front of Jim, please.  He’ll shoot both’a y’all on sight.” She said and Ronan believed she meant it.  Adam dropped Ronan’s hand again and this time Ronan did not try to take it.  It became clear that they were treading dangerous water and they had to be more strategic.

Once they entered the threshold, the woman - who Ronan assumed was Grandma Martha, from what Adam had described of her - took both of their coats and Adam had another moment where he had to cover his laughter at the sight of Ronan’s bright, baby blue polo, khaki pants, and Doc Martin boots.  Ronan rolled his eyes and flipped Adam off behind Martha’s back.

“Okay, everyone’s waitin’ around in the livingroom ‘till supper’s done.” Martha called as she shuffled back towards the kitchen.  Ronan looked at Adam who seemed a second away from a heart attack and smiled.  “C’mon, you can do it.” He whispered.  Adam looked at him and then away again at the entrance of the living room, and nodded.  Adam grabbed Ronan’s hand and together they walked in.

Every single person in the room was staring.  The two younger cousins didn’t seem to care after a moment, but there was an old man sitting on a recliner who looked about ready to burst.  His face was turning red and it seemed as if his mouth was just an upside-down ‘U’ that someone had carved into his face.  Adam was squeezing Ronan’s hand so tightly it began to hurt, but Ronan said nothing.

“Hi everyone, this is Ronan.  My b-”

The man sitting in the chair stood up suddenly.  He was shaking.  Adam physically recoiled in the most microscopic way that Ronan would not have noticed were he not pressed up against Adam’s side.  

Ronan saw a lot in the face of that man, but mostly he saw every asshole who had ever tried to tell Ronan that he wasn’t allowed to do anything.  That he was a mistake, a fuck-up, a piece of shit.  Adam had said that it was no holds bar as far as arguments go and Ronan was ready to tear out a throat with his teeth.

“What the _fuck_ you think yer doin’, boy?” The man, presumably Jim, shouted.  Another man - younger, about early thirties - rushed over to him and tried to talk him down, but Jim just shoved him to the side.  

“You think you can just show up to _my_ house, with _my_ family and be like _that_ ?  Sin in _my_ home?  You’ve always been a freak, y’know, that’s why your father-”

“You do _not_ speak to him like that.” Ronan snarled.  He could feel what Jim was about to say prickle under his skin.  He could hear the secret that Adam had been trying to keep from him echoing in those unsaid words.  He felt like they might have been breaking each other’s hands and he could feel sweat forming between their palms but neither of them dared to let go.  “If you say one more fucking word to either of us then I’ll show you _exactly_ what sin is.”

Jim bared his teeth and clenched his fists, but when Ronan’s eyes narrowed he looked more dangerous in his blue polo and his khaki pants than Jim could ever hope to be.  They stared at each other for a few beats before Jim spat out the word “ _Faggots_ ”, storming off towards the stairs.  Martha was standing in the doorway of the kitchen looking tremendously tired.  Adam let out a breath and placed a hand over his heart and Ronan didn’t think before he placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder and ducked his head down to look him in the eyes.

“You okay?” He asked softly.  Adam met his gaze and didn’t say anything.  The rest of the family looked shaken but mostly mad at the two of them for instigating anything in the first place.  No one would speak or look at either Ronan or Adam and they awkwardly stood behind the couch.  The younger man from before and a woman who was likely his wife sat on the loveseat muttering to one another as their children looked scared and confused.  As if this was something that just _happened_.  They did not turn to their children to comfort them, or explain that the behavior they had just seen was wrong.  They just muttered and looked reluctantly at their children and then up at Adam and then at each other and they did nothing.

Ronan was furious.

Just then, the front door of the house opened and everyone turned to see who had just arrived, an unannounced visitor.

It was a woman, around the same age as the married couple.  She had dirt brown hair that was streaked with silver and her skin was beginning to show age through crow’s feet and lines around her mouth.  Her eyes were set deep in her face where they sat atop her prominent cheekbones.  The first thought through Ronan’s head when he saw her was, _so the dark circles are hereditary._

Adam had stopped breathing.

The woman smiled nervously and waved at him.

“Adam-”

And before she had finished her sentence, Adam pushed past her and was out the door.  Ronan took a moment realize what was happening before it clicked that something was deeply, profusely _wrong_.  He flipped off everyone that could see him and said, “I didn’t want to eat your dry ass turkey anyway,” before rushing after Adam, hoping to God that the man hadn’t gotten too far away.

Luckily, Adam was only just outside, leaning against the BMW heavily.  He had his head in his hands and his eyes staring wide at the ground.  He looked crazed, completely shaken to the core and was, in fact, shaking vigorously.

Ronan took in a deep breath and walked towards him like he would approach a wild animal.  He was slow and deliberate and once he was in earshot he said, “Adam?  Are you okay?”

Adam looked up slowly and Ronan noticed that there were tears in his eyes and Ronan recognized the pain there from when he had found his father dead in their garage.  Adam did not look like himself for all that Ronan could remember of his face.  He was hollowed out and breathing hard, his eyes wild and glistening and his thin mouth hanging open in a caricature of itself.  Ronan was taken aback until it registered with him what grief looked like on someone else’s face.

He said, “Adam-”

“ _ADAM_!”

The woman was standing in the open door of the house looking confused and distressed but nothing even close to the tragedy that was Adam.

Adam looked up at her and Ronan could feel the metaphorical punches to the stomach that Adam was experiencing.  Ronan had no idea what had happened in this family, but he knew that Adam wanted out and he knew that this woman needed to leave Adam alone forever.

“Fuck you!” Ronan told her, positioning himself in front of Adam.

The woman heaved a sob and buried her face in her hands.  “I just wanted to _talk_!” She shouted.  Ronan noticed front doors opening as nosey neighbors peered out to see what all of the ruckus was about.  He wouldn’t be surprised if the police were to be called soon.

Ronan clenched his jaw and felt his rage simmer under his skin.

“ _Fuck off_ , lady!  Do the right thing and get out of here and leave him the fuck alone!”

The woman looked furious, but Ronan was already turning around and shepherding a silent and traumatized Adam into the passenger seat, rounding the car and ignoring the shouted obscenities coming from the house as he got in and drove away.

He realized that he didn’t know where Adam lived and that there was no way Adam could be at Monmouth right now, and so he just drove.  Adam sat in the passenger seat looking empty and nearly dead.  It wasn’t until he began to heave with heavy sobs that Ronan screeched to a halt on the side of a country road and turned to Adam.

Ronan knew a lot about panic attacks, but _other people_ having panic attacks was another story.  He pursed his lips, tried to stay calm, and reached out to gently touch Adam’s hand.  Adam’s eyes snapped to him and - _god_ \- he looked terrified.

“It’s okay.” Ronan said, feeling stupid.  “I know.  It’s okay, we’re not going back there.  You never have to see them again if you don’t want to.  I know.”

Slowly, his hand curled around Adam’s and Adam continued to stare, but his breath was getting shallower and more steady.  Slowly, he began to blink and breathe in a way akin to normalcy.  Slowly, the heaving sobs became a steady, silent stream of tears.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Adam said after a while.  His voice hiccuped a little as he spoke and it shook with a dangerous amount of feeling.  Ronan bit down his instinct to defend his actions and breathed deeply.  “I’m sorry.” He said and he wasn’t sure why he was apologizing.  He never apologizes.  But Adam looked so _hurt_ and he didn’t have to know that Ronan hadn’t said the word “sorry” in years.

“ _No_ ,” Adam spat out.  “I could have _handled_ it.” He was upset and Ronan could feel Adam's hackles rising.  Ronan squeezed Adam’s hand and was surprised when it wasn’t taken away from him.  “I know.” He said softly.  “I know you could have.  But I wasn’t going to leave without making sure everyone was properly flipped off.  Those people sucked, and there’s nothing like an extra pair of fingers to let them know that.”

Adam glared out of the corner of his eyes, but his expression had softened somewhat.  “This was a mistake.” He said with a sigh.  Ronan nodded slowly.  “Yeah, probably.” He agreed.  Adam looked out of the window, frowning.  “I haven’t told anyone about my family.  No one.  Not even--” he seemed to stop himself, glancing back at Ronan.  Ronan didn’t push.  

“I don’t care.” He said softly, trying to convey exactly what he meant by that.  Adam worried at his bottom lip and Ronan was distracted for half a second.  “Everyone has their shit.  You can’t help what assholes you share blood with.  It’s not your fault.”

Adam’s breath shuddered and Ronan could see fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.  “I know.” He said in a way that implied that he didn’t, not really.  

Adam swallowed thickly and shook his head.  “You didn’t sign up for any of this.  I didn’t know she would be there.”

Ronan shrugged again and tried not to think about the fact that they were still holding hands.

“I said I wanted to get in a fight, remember?” His voice was soft but serious and Adam’s laugh came too quiet and too much like a sob.

“Fuck.” Adam said after a moment and finally pulled his hand away from Ronan’s to wipe vigorously at his face.  “I’ve known you for, what, a week?  You’ve already found out my deepest, darkest secret.” He said with a humorless chuckle.  Ronan said nothing, but he left his hand resting close to Adam’s lap, his eyes trained on Adam’s face, trying to search for an indication of Adam’s feelings about this revelation.

“I mean, _fuck,_ I don’t know anything about you.”

Ronan clenched his jaw.  He’d known Adam for a week, barely spoken to him in that time, but something had just happened that no one else was supposed to see.  Especially not a stranger.  Ronan made a decision in that moment and though, ‘ _well, fuck it, I guess_.’

“My dad died when I was sixteen.  I found his body in our garage with a tire iron laying beside him and a dent in his head.  After that, my mom stopped speaking or taking care of herself and has been in a nursing home for ten years, since she was forty five.  My shithead older brother took care of our youngest brother.  My older brother and I got into a fight the day before I posted that stupid fucking Craigslist ad because he’d found out I was street racing and drinking again and he said that I wasn’t allowed to see my little brother for the holidays.  That’s why I wanted to do this.  Because I was lonely and fucking _desperate_ and why not use my only talent to help disappoint someone _else’s_ family?”

Ronan sighed, fairly sure he hadn’t ever said half of those things out loud.  Adam was staring at him.  He didn’t say anything and, after a moment, turned to look out of the window.  His face was pinched and complicated and Ronan held his breath while he waited for Adam to say anything.

Finally, he said, “my dad beat me.  A lot.  As a kid.  My mom never said anything, or did anything, and blamed it on me most of the time.  My family would always say that it was good that I was being beaten because it would put hair on my chest or make me a man or whatever.  No one ever did anything.  My dad pushed me and I fell and hit my ear and now I’m partially deaf.  And no one ever said anything.  I graduated magna cum laude from my highschool and no one came to the graduation, no one even mentioned that I had graduated.  I got into a good college and graduated at the top of my class and no one--” he stopped, squeezing his eyes shut.  “My dad died from a heart attack a year ago.  Everyone blamed me for causing him so much stress.  My whole family hates me for-- for no reason.” He sobbed again, his hand going to cover his face.  Ronan placed a hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and face intense.

“It’s okay,” he said after a minute.  “You’re never gonna talk to them again.  Fuck them, fuck that.  You don’t owe them shit, none of them.  Fuck them.” Ronan shook, just a little, and when Adam looked at him it was with an expression that didn’t seem to know what it wanted to be.  Finally, he smiled and rubbed at his eyes again, wiping away tears.

“Thanks.”

Ronan nodded and looked out through the window.  It was close to sunset and there was a grassy field surrounded by trees.  Ronan shut off the engine and climbed out.  Adam looked distressed for a minute until Ronan gestured for him to follow.

Ronan led them through the field until they could see the setting sun through the trunks of the trees.  Ronan sat down in the grass and then patted the spot next to him, looking at Adam expectantly.  Adam laughed in surprise and seemed to fall onto the ground.  They looked through the trees at the sunset and they didn’t say anything for a long time.  Just watched.

Then, “I know you don’t know me,” Ronan said, his voice catching slightly in his throat.  Adam glanced over at him and the sun and the grass and the fresh air had brought color back to his face, his eyes shining just a little bit.  Ronan sucked in a breath.  “But, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you.”

Adam stared for a moment before directing his smile at the setting sun.  “After all that, maybe I owe it to you.” He said.  Ronan shrugged.  “You don’t owe me anything.  I didn’t do anything.”

Running a hand through his hair, Adam let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You did, though.  Whether I asked you to or not, you still… stood up for me.  You could have bailed.  You probably should have bailed.  I was asking too much from you from the beginning.”

Ronan shook his head.  “I let it happen.  I dragged you into my own shit, it seems only fair that you did the same.”

“Mutual shit dragging.” Adam said with a chuckle.

Ronan smirked.  “Tit for tat.”

They sat there for a while, the air around them cooling and the sky darkening until they could barely see in front of their own noses.  Finally, Adam stood up on shaking legs and held a hand out to Ronan.

“Well, I think I still owe you a Thanksgiving dinner.” He said with a wry smile.  Ronan grinned, taking Adam’s hand and pulling himself up.  They both took a moment before dropping the other’s hand.

The only place that was open this late on Thanksgiving was an all night diner that was serving a turkey special.  Everyone working there looked tired and exasperated, but Ronan and Adam made the best of it.  Over dinner, Adam explained how he studied history and business and works as a researcher for a publishing company.  Ronan talked about his dream to revive his father’s farm.  To Ronan’s surprise, it was incredibly easy to open up to Adam, to laugh with him and help distract from the events of the night.  After they had finished their food and were discussing the potentiality of the failing of the book market, Ronan’s phone buzzed.  He looked down at the text and his eyebrows shot up in surprised.

“Declan says that Matthew wants to see me.” He said quietly.  Adam had both hands wrapped around his mug and was watching Ronan carefully.

“And?” He prompted.

“I guess I’m going to go see my brothers.” Ronan answered with a sigh.  Adam nodded and both were suddenly overcome with a melancholy that was both exciting and uncomfortable.

They sat there for a moment before Adam took a breath, holding his mouth open before speaking.

“I’d… like to see you again.”

Ronan smiled, genuine and heartfelt, before nodding and schooling his features to something more muted, more manageable.

“I think that can be arranged.”

Before they left, they exchanged contact information, phone numbers that had been purposefully excluded from the business transaction, and left in an awkward sort of way, a way that made it clear how much more they had wanted to say, or do.  Instead, they just waved and smiled and promised to see each other again soon.

The next few weeks went by slowly with no word from Adam.  To be fair, Ronan never texted or called either, but he forgot he even had a phone half the time so that wasn’t his fault.  He also had avoided talking about Adam to anyone, not Gansey, not Declan, not Matthew.  A week after Thanksgiving saw that change.

Ronan and Gansey were experiencing a rare occurrence where they were existing together in the same space and Ronan wasn’t yelling and Gansey wasn’t sighing passively.  Ronan was reading a dusty old tome that Declan had gotten him years ago as a gift and Gansey was clicking away on his laptop.  Suddenly, Gansey raised his eyes from his computer to level them with Ronan.  Ronan attempted to appear completely engaged in his book but his shoulders began to raise and a scowl manifested on his face.

Gansey cleared his throat and said, “Who’s Adam Parrish?”

Ronan’s surprise over hearing Adam’s last name overshadowed his annoyance and he looked over at Gansey with an unreadable expression.

“Whom?” He asked, his tone coy and casual, but his face giving away his curiosity.

Gansey frowned at him and looked back at his computer for a moment before looking back up.  “The man who emailed me for… a _reference_.  I thought you were joking about the gigolo thing.”

Ronan nearly dropped his book, his ears burning.  “I’m not a gigolo.” He murmured.

“Okay, then who is Adam Parrish?”

 _Adam Parrish_.

_Why did that sound so familiar?_

“He’s… a client.” Ronan wasn’t sure if ‘friend’ would have been a believable lie, but ‘client’ wasn’t much better.  Gansey narrowed his eyes and looked back at his computer.

“ _Dear Mr. Gansey,_

_I write to request a reference to the sanity and safety of a certain Ronan.  I am intending on utilizing his services but would first like to ascertain the status of his person.  He had said that your reference would be an honest one and I am not looking for anything perfect, I just want to make sure I understand what I’m getting into.  I also would prefer to stay un-murdered for the foreseeable future and if Ronan’s credibility jeopardizes that then I would love to be informed of the risk._

_Regards,_

_Mr. Adam Parrish_.”

Ronan could _feel_ the heat of his cheeks radiating once Gansey had finished reading the email aloud.  Something about him was so undeniably _charming_.  Ronan hid his face in his book.

“He is either looking for a hitman or a gigolo and I’m not completely convinced that you would willingly kill someone, so… are you a gigolo?”

“Jesus!  No, Dick, I am not a fucking _gigolo_!  This guy needed help with some family stuff on Thanksgiving and I was free and so… I helped.” Ronan frowned at how _selfless_ he sounded.  Like he had done some heroic act, sacrificing his Thanksgiving dinner to assist a poor man in need.  He hadn’t actually done a lot, just flipped some people off and shouted.  He likely made everything worse, actually, so no selflessness.  Just Ronan being Ronan.

“Okay…” Gansey said slowly, pursing his lips as he read over the email again.  “What… kind of help?  How did you even meet him?”

“I’ve just… seen him around, okay?  Jesus, Gansey, you don’t have to deep dive into my fucking business every time there’s something a little weird, okay?  Newsflash: something is _always_ a little weird,” Ronan snapped his book shut and moved to stand up.

Gansey still had his eyes glued to his computer screen.  “I know that you’re lying but I can also recognize when I’ve overstepped, so I will push no further.” He said after a moment, his eyes moving to look at Ronan and Ronan glared back until he sighed heavily and collapsed back on the chair.

“Adam is… I offered to help him come out to his family.  He’s a friend.  I thought we’d had a moment afterwards but he hasn’t called in--” He stopped himself, not quite sure why that had even come out of his mouth.  Gansey was doing a piss poor job of not looking pleased.

“So Adam is a _crush_?” He said and Ronan immediately regretted everything he had ever done, finally standing up and stomping back to his room.

“Maybe _you_ should call _him?_ ” Gansey called at Ronan’s retreating back.  Ronan slammed his door behind him before Gansey had finished his last word.

Once he was in the silence of his own room, however, Gansey’s suggestion bounced around his head louder and louder until he was pulling his neglected phone out of his pocket and unlocking it.

His thumb hovered over the name _adum_ in his contacts and he could feel his heart beating fast and pounding against his throat.  Ronan was not the kind of person who _called_ , much less called _first_.  Would Adam think he was being desperate?  A freak?  A stalker?  What would he even say if Adam were to pick up?  What would he say to the voicemail if he _didn’t_?  His thumb was shaking where it stayed centimeters from the screen.  With a frustrated sigh, Ronan locked his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.

… Only for it to begin to buzz.

Ronan growled, snatching his phone back out and going to hang up just as he noticed the same _adum_ flashing on the screen.  He answered.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly, as if all of the wind had been knocked from him by the act of picking up his phone.  A beat of silence went by where Ronan was certain Adam had butt-dialed him, or called him by accident until he heard Adam say, “Ronan?”

Ronan suppressed a grin.  “Yeah, hi.”

“Hi.”

They stayed like that, silently on the phone for a few moments before Adam took a breath and said, “I need your help again.”

Ronan sighed and tried not to let slip a disappointed “Oh.”

“Um… what with?” He asked, nonchalant.  Adam breathed in again and huffed out something that sounded like a laugh.  “I told a creepy guy who has a crush on me that I have a boyfriend and now he’s trying to invite me and ‘the boo’ out to a party and it’ll be too suspicious if I bail.  Do you want to come to this weird party with me and pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Ronan swallowed around a lump in his throat that he hated deeply and profoundly.

“Um… yeah, sure.”

And that’s how he ended up at some random dude’s house 20 minutes out of town.  When Adam had come to pick him up, he hadn’t argued about the car.  He was honestly just so relieved to see Adam again that he had been in a daze ever since he got in the car.  They had driven in relative silence until Adam spoke up.

“How’ve you been?”

Ronan threw a sarcastic look back at Adam who smirked and raised one hand in defeat.

“Fine, fine!  Do you want to know _anything_ about this party?”

Ronan shrugged, not able to hide his own smile.  “I’m guessing it’s going to be awful and over-the-top.” He said thoughtfully.  Adam laughed and nodded.  “Something like that.”

Then they were there.  The house was huge, white with pillars and a sloping front yard perfectly landscaped and dotted with exotic plants.  Immediately Ronan regretted this.

“Do adults even _have_ parties anymore?” He asked, pulling back as if he was a reluctant dog on a leash.  Adam raised an eyebrow at him.  “Rich ones do.” He answered in a judgemental drawl.  Ronan winced.  “Not I.” He murmured.

They started walking up the long staircase leading to the front door when Adam snatched Ronan’s hand.  Ronan resisted the urge to squeeze it reassuringly.

“Tad is… persistent.  If he suspects we aren’t madly in love then he’ll be all over me.  Please.” Adam looked over at Ronan searchingly, trying to find any hint that Ronan was not okay with this.  There was, of course, no such hint.  Instead, Ronan grinned and pulled Adam closer to him so that the were walking hip to hip and unlatched their hands in order to wrap his arm around Adam’s waist.  Adam tensed for just a moment before he relaxed a little into the touch.

They walked up to the door and Adam knocked.  A moment later, a tall, blond man with a too-big smile swung the door open, although once his eyes fell on the image that Ronan and Adam painted, his too-big smile faltered just a little bit.

“Adam!  I’m so glad you came!  And this must be the infamous Ronan.”

When Tad looked at Ronan, he could recognize the challenge.  The attempt to frighten Ronan, present himself like a threat.  Clearly, Tad underestimated both Ronan’s pride and his appreciation for Adam, as ambiguous and confusing as it was.  Ronan narrowed his eyes above a huge, fake smile.

“The very same,” he answered like he had heard at one of Gansey’s many fancy parties he had been forced to attend so many times.  Tad cocked his head to the side and said, “A pleasure.”

“I’m sure.” Ronan gritted out.

Adam looked bewildered at this interaction and cleared his throat.  Both men dropped their staring contest to remember the world around them.  Tad let them in and then hurried past under the guise of “refreshing the refreshments!”

“He’s--”

“Obnoxious?” Adam offered.

“Human fucking garbage.” Ronan said instead.  Adam laughed in surprise, watching Tad’s retreat.  “That seems… harsh.”

Ronan shook his head, making a frustrated noise.  “Clearly he thinks he’s fucking… _entitled_ to you or something.  Like he can judge our fake-relationship before he knows anything about it and determine that _he_ would be a better fit for you than _me_.  He doesn’t even know you.”

Adam was watching Ronan carefully.  “You barely know me.” He said.  Ronan bit the inside of his cheek.  “Better than him, I bet.”

With a dismissive shrug, Adam allowed himself a private smile that Ronan only just missed.  Together, they walked to the table containing the alcohol and the food.  Adam did not touch the alcohol or even look at it, but took a plate of hors devours.  Ronan didn’t take anything, just scanned the room for any sign of _Tad_.

“ _Lynch_?”

Apparently he did not scan well enough.

Gansey was just suddenly _there_ .  He was dressed in a casual pair of slacks and a dress shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled up and he looked like everything about Gansey that Ronan hated, but he’d learned to ignore it.  Next to Gansey was Gansey’s pet goblin that he shamelessly referred to as his _girlfriend_.

“Blue?” Adam asked incredulously.

Ronan glanced over at Adam in surprise as he and the maggot hugged and Gansey came to stand next to Ronan.

“Adam, I presume?” He asked with a horrible smirk.  It did not suit him one bit.

Ronan did not answer.  Instead, he asked in a rushed whisper, “Did you know he was friends with the maggot from the beginning?  Do _you_ know him?” Gansey looked utterly smug.

“I’ve known Adam for about as long as I’ve known Jane.” He said with a shrug.  “I’ve actually told you about him a few times, but you must not have been listening.”

Ronan’s hearing began to tune out and all he could do was stare at Adam as Gansey continued to talk, oblivious and delighted.  All Ronan could think was _I should have fucking known_.  Adam looked over at him and smiled, timid and apologetic and it hit Ronan square in his chest.

They knew.  They all knew.  Ronan had been played with, toyed with.  He was the misbehaven dog that needed to be tricked into making a friend.

The worst part was… Ronan had actually thought that he had finally found something.  He had finally found someone that he could talk to, that he could trust enough to tell about his dad, about Declan and Matthew.  He thought he had finally done something good all on his own.  But no… as soon as Gansey had learned that it was Adam who had answered the _fucking_ Craigslist ad, they had concocted a scheme to get Ronan to just, like, _loosen up_ and _make more friends._  

Ronan left.

He pushed past Gansey and stomped out of Tad’s stupid front door, past all of his fucking exotic decorative plants and out into the expanse of unused land that every obnoxious rich person seemed to have.  Once he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the sounds of the party and the pressure on his chest loosened just enough for him the breathe, he dropped to his knees and began to punch at the earth until it broke.  He let out a string of curses that eventually morphed into a scream.

He was so _tired_ of Gansey sticking his nose into every aspect of his life, so tired of being manipulated into doing _the right thing_ , the _honest thing_ , the thing that would make him happiest like he couldn’t fucking do that all himself.  He didn’t need Gansey to take care of him, he didn’t need Blue’s fucking friends to wiggle their way into his life under the guise of actually _giving a shit_ about him at all.

Ronan shouted again, making one last aborted punch to the ground before sagging.

He had actually really liked Adam.  That was perhaps the real tragedy.  He really thought he’d had something good happening.  Adam was good, honest, just a little bit broken in a way that matched Ronan.  Or… at least he had thought so.  Instead, Adam had known nearly from the beginning.  Ronan thought back to the look Adam had given him when they first met.  He thought it had been surprise, or maybe a little bit of uneasiness.  In reality, it had been a more specific emotion.  Surprised by the appearance of a person he had heard about but never seen.  Perhaps a suppressed amusement at the utterly predictable way that Ronan presented himself.  He was, after all, a caricature of his own personality.  He embodied every prickly thorn and razor edge that was _him_.

He cursed again, quietly this time, under his breath.

“Ronan.”

The voice was coming from behind him and when he looked, Adam was standing there with his arms wrapped around himself.

“Fuck off.” Ronan bit out.  He hated the way that Adam flinched.

“Look, I know you’re hurt--”

“Fuck _off_ , Adam.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed, his shoulders pulling back and his jaw set firm.

“No, you know what?   _You_ fuck off, Ronan.”

Ronan scoffed, rolling his eyes and averting them to the darkened line of trees in the distance.

“Look, I get that we fucked up, but I’ve been trying to meet you for _months_.  Gansey wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you.  He kept telling me how amazing you were, how great of a friend.  Every single time he’d invited you out and you never showed, he would try to reassure me that you were _busy_ , that you were going through a _rough patch_ but you know what I think?  I think you’re too fucking _scared_ to open up to anyone.  You think you hurt people, that you fuck everything up, but you never fucking _try_ to have anything.  Trust me, I know it’s hard but I did it.  I was able to push past it because you know what sucks more than hurting people, Ronan?  Being alone.  I know you have Gansey but what’s going to happen if you keep pushing him away?  Pushing everyone away?  You almost couldn’t spend _Thanksgiving_ with your _family_ \--”

Ronan pushed off the ground, rushing up to Adam with fire in his eyes.  He balled his fist into Adam’s shirt and said, “you do _not_ get to say that!  You do _not_ get to use Matthew against me!  Not you too!”

Adam flinched back and Ronan’s heart clenched, but the only thing he did was let go and step back a few paces, his hands still shaking.  Adam took a deep breath and squared himself again.

“I wanted to actually get to know you, Ronan.  It seemed like such a fucking... I don’t know, twist of fate that it had been you who posted that ad.  I didn’t want to scare you off or freak you out.  I didn’t want you to know that I knew Gansey.  I wasn’t sure how much you tell him and what I said before is true.  You’re the only one that knows about my dad.”

Ronan looked at Adam, at his face that was shameful and angry and upset, close to tears but not quite crying.  Ronan bit the inside of his cheek, thinking things over.

Now that Adam had said it, it made sense.  Of course he wouldn’t want the guy who was about to dig through all of his dirty laundry to go and blab it all to a mutual friend.  Of course.  Adam was just as scared of opening up as Ronan was, he was just better at hiding it.

Except that… after only a week of knowing one another they had both revealed more than they had to anyone else.  After only one week, Ronan inexplicably couldn’t stop thinking about Adam, about his dark circles and his delicate hands and the way he had looked in the light of the setting sun.  After only one week, Adam became the person Ronan trusted the most.

That had to mean something, right?

Adam sighed, rubbing at his face to disguise wiping away tears.  “I really don’t expect you to forgive me, or Gansey and Blue for that matter, but it would be great if you didn’t, like, cut us all out completely.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, nervously running a hand over his hair.

“I’m not… going to forgive you.  Any of you.” He said.  Adam pressed his lips together and Ronan had to see that disappointment clear on his face.  He sighed, lifting his arms to hold them behind his head.

“Okay, shit that’s… not what I was trying to say.  Fuck,” he groaned in frustration but Adam was watching him curiously, no pressure, no judgement.

“I meant… what you guys did was pretty fucked up and it might take me some time to forgive you but…” he frowned, avoiding Adam’s eyes.  “I get it, you know?  I’m not exactly the easiest person to get to know.  I get it.  And, by the way, I’m not the easier person to be friends with, either.” He looked at Adam pointedly to see a tentative smile on his face.

“So, I guess… you’re just going to have to owe me one.  For a while.”

Adam laughed, out of relief or surprise, Ronan couldn’t tell, but Adam stepped forward almost unconsciously before pausing and seeming to contemplate something.

Ronan just rolled his eyes again and gestured for Adam to come closer.

As if something was pulling him forward, Adam stumbled towards Ronan, falling into an embrace.  With his face buried in Ronan’s shoulder, Adam said, “I don’t mind being indebted to you.  It’s a good exchange for being able to keep you around. 

Ronan tentatively placed his arms around Adam’s middle, allowing his face to press gently into Adam’s hair.  This was hurtling towards intimacy and Ronan’s instinct was to back away, tell Adam to fuck off, keep it at arms length.  Instead, he hummed into Adam’s hair and allowed himself to smile.

“I would hope so.  I’m a fucking delight.” He said, muffled.  He could feel Adam laughing in his arms and the emotional intensity had him laughing too.

They stood there for a moment, just holding one another in the cold December air, until Adam nervously cleared his throat but did not remove his head.

“Can I tell you another secret?” He asked quietly.  Ronan hummed again, not wanting to open his mouth and ruin the moment.  Adam breathed in deeply, squeezing his arms around Ronan a little tighter.

“I wanted to meet you because Gansey said that he thought we’d make a good couple.  I thought he was full of it until I met you and all I’ve thought about since Thanksgiving was how much I want to kiss you.”

Ronan aborted his gasp and ended up coughing loudly.  Adam pulled away, suddenly looking scared.  “But it’s fine if you don’t.  I just thought I should be honest after tonight, y’know?  I didn’t want you to feel--”

But Ronan was shaking his head as he coughed and once the hackin subsided he placed a hand on either side of Adam’s face and pulled him close.  He stopped centimeters away, giving Adam a chance to back out.  To rethink this and everything to do with them.  But Adam just surged forward and pressed his lips to Ronan’s.

Ronan rarely kissed other people.  There were a few men in bars, or those he used to drag race with.  None of his kisses so far have been even close to as sweet, as honest, as _real_.  In the short amount of time that Ronan had known Adam, something had happened.  A connection that Ronan didn’t think was possible for him anymore.  In that kiss he put his promises, his secrets, the things that they had shared and would continue to share.  He buried his hand in Adam’s hair and Adam guided Ronan’s hand to his hip and they stood there and they kissed.

And not for the last time.


End file.
